


Make Me

by billtheradish



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: teenwolfkink, First Kiss, Kink Meme, M/M, Oral Fixation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 10:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billtheradish/pseuds/billtheradish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"the sexual tension between you and someone when you tell them to shut up and they say <i>make me</i>"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Me

It was a tense, angry moment with the wall at his back and human-y-shaped wolf breath in his face before it registers that a) wall at his back aaaaaand pretty much in a corner, to boot. b) human shaped, sure, but still wolf which is still predator and had his brain mentioned the cornered? And also, importantly, c) had he really just told the cranky, irritable, werewolf who could probably rip him into gory confetti "make me"?

Oh, that was going to go well. 

Derek just kept staring, and Stiles was starting to wonder if Derek was going to hold his heartbeat against him. If it was thumping away hard and fast enough that he could feel it, Stiles was willing to bet it sounded like the most boring rock concert ever, to a werewolf.

Also, it was kind of ironic that he'd shut _himself_ up with his comment, rather than in response to Derek's order. But maybe that was the goal all along, right? Get the smartass little kid to jump in over his head and watch him flounder.

Stiles opened his mouth, though he wasn't sure if he was going to comment on the irony, the drowning analogy, Derek's breath, or something about goldfish. (Because goldfish eyes? Creepy. Way creepier than Derek's, if not as threatening.) But Derek rested a finger against his lips and all the thoughts went away. All of them. He'd say he swallowed them but, well, his mouth was kind of being propped halfway open by a finger and he wasn't having much luck with the swallowing thing. He was barely keeping up with the breathing thing.

He was absolutely not paying any attention to the feel of Derek's finger, though. Nope. He wasn't taking note of the temperature (warmer than when Derek grabbed his arm, or his neck) or paying any attention at all to the ridge of a callus he could just feel with his upper lip (and how did a werewolf get calluses, anyway? calluses were formed by repeated minor friction-based damage to the skin. maybe the healing thing didn't work at that level, but...).

"I could do that." And if he'd thought Derek was close before, then holy fucking shit. Because he was suddenly _right there_. Their clothes were brushing from hip to chest and the temperature would have been unbearable if his window wasn't still mostly open. Derek was close enough that his lips were practically brushing the other side of his finger. Their noses were tucked together like they were about to start humping.

And he was not going to think about nose sex. Just. No.

Derek tilted his head, eyes gleaming for just a moment. "I'd just need to keep your mouth...occupied. Right?" And there was the asshole smirk. At close range, it...didn't actually look that bad. Stiles couldn't quite focus on both the eyes and the mouth at the same time. It improved things. 

But there was no way Derek couldn't smell his arousal. Stiles was just thanking fucking everything that his boner wasn't pressing into anything solid. Because keeping still at this point? Probably not happening.

"Quit..." Stiles closed his eyes and tried to ignore the way that felt like he was kissing Derek's fingers. Important note to self! When talking with a hand against your mouth, avoid Qs unless currently in a loving and intimate relationship with owner of said hand.

"You're going to have to be specific, Stiles. Just what," he said, voice dropping until it sounded like it had teeth, "do you want me to quit?"

Stiles shuddered at that. Which, weirdly, seemed to jostle a plan out of his brain jelly. "Sh-shut up."

Derek shifted closer, cheek brushing against his and, yeah, that was a thigh, right there. And no, his hips were not staying still, hitching closer in a tiny spastic jerk while a groan worked its way up his throat. First the tip of Derek's nose brushed against his ear, then his lips.

"Make me."

That was...definitely a growl. But the finger at his mouth was still lacking in the sharp and pointy, and apparently his brain wasn't all that picky anymore about keeping threat noises and sex noises separate, because hello. 

Before he could chicken out, Stiles let his head fall back the tiny fraction of space he had left, opened his mouth wider, and that was that. One finger successfully acquired, with a distinct absence of claw or frantic jerking away. Instead, Derek inhaled sharply and tensed, holding very still while Stiles ran his tongue over the pad of his finger. That breath came out again as a slow hiss when Stiles shifted his head forward again, sucking in more of the digit and scraping his teeth lightly over the second knuckle.

Moral of the story. Do not play gay chicken with Stiles Stilinski, for he will totally crash if necessary.

Depending on who he's playing with, he might just drive off a cliff.

The way he tasted, though. Salt, pine, ash, sage. It was...hot. And addicting. He wanted another finger, wanted to find out how far he could go without gagging (because let's be realistic, he would), wanted to see if the webbing between the fingers tasted any different. 

Derek's thumb brushed along his bottom lip, his hand just barely shaking, which Stiles would never have been able to tell if part of it wasn't, y'know, _in his mouth_. There was a hot sigh against his ear as Derek returned to nuzzling. "Shit. Stiles."

And apparently he wasn't doing a good enough job to keep Derek shut up for long, but it had worked for a bit, right? But then the finger was being pulled away and... Those were lips. That was teeth. Then it was cold.

It didn't take long for Stiles to open his eyes, but by the time he did the room was empty. Hell, the window was even closed.

Stiles wasn't sure he'd seen Derek move that fast in a life or death situation before, let alone out of one.

He started to bring a hand up to his mouth, then decided not to be a young adult romance heroine and tap his fist against the wall instead. The next step, he figured, was brooding about what a crappy (and _short_ ) first kiss that was and maybe obsessing a bit and jerking off. Not necessarily in that order.

Then he heard his dad coming up the stairs, and nearly had a heart attack.

 _Fuck_. When had he gotten home? And, okay, yeah. Maybe the faster-than-near-death encounter speed made a bit more sense, now.

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to [this kinkmeme prompt](http://teenwolfkink.livejournal.com/6131.html?thread=4453875).
> 
> Beta credit to my roommate, who read this aloud and thoroughly embarrassed me in the process.


End file.
